Love Somebody
by ckeller48
Summary: Prompt: Love Somebody by Maroon 5 - Quinn goes to New York for the first time after the failed wedding. Santana and Quinn remained friends after that night. They (Quinn, Rachel, Kurt and Santana) decided to spend the night out. While dancing to this song, Santana and Quinn gets reminded of their night together and all the feels came out


It's Santana's message that convinces me to get on the train to visit, even though Rachel has been asking practically daily for the past two months. I don't have anything against Rachel, we're definitely friends at this point, but she's still kind of overbearing and a whole weekend of hanging out with Rachel's NYADA buddies isn't exactly a high priority.

Santana, on the other hand, is chill and promises me a trip filled with amazing New York pizza and a couple of lame art museums (Santana's words, not mine). There are no expectations and no color-coded itinerary planning every minute. I wait until I'm on the train to even text Rachel that I'm visiting so that she doesn't have time to jump into action with what we should do while I'm here.

I'm greeted in Grand Central Station by Santana and Rachel. Santana lets Rachel run towards me when we finally catch sight of one another. I roll my eyes when she announces that she's going to hug me now and I watch Santana over Rachel's shoulder. She sidles up slowly, but her grin gives her away. Despite her tough girl exterior, she's excited that I'm here in New York, even if it's only for a couple of days.

It's not the first time I've been to the Bushwick loft, but it's the first time since Santana has become a permanent third roommate. She ushers me into her sleeping area and pulls the curtain closed behind us.

"You look good, Q," she comments and I blush in spite of myself. It was only one night of unadultered fun, but seeing her again in the flesh makes all the memories of that encounter rush back and smash into me full force.

I shrug off the compliment and change the subject before this becomes a mushy conversation that neither of us would be able to execute. Santana goes with the change of subject and soon she's catching me up on her latest conversation with Brittany and her hopes to visit by the end of the summer.

We pregame in the loft, just the four of us lowly kids from Lima, Ohio with our heads filled with bigger dreams. Rachel is animated and excited at the prospect of convincing Santana and I to go to Callbacks with the theatre dorks - which is most definitely not going to happen - while Santana is rather quiet and relaxed as she sips her wine.

Santana convinces Rachel that we should do something more fun than drunk college karaoke and it's how we end up on the subway heading to a club. Kurt tags along, despite whining about the idea of being surrounded by straight boys grinding on the girls, and I feel light to be surrounded by the people I love again.

The club is loud, the music pumping through the building. Quinn feels every beat of the bass pounding in her chest and she lets Santana grab her hand to make sure that she doesn't get lost in the crowd.

It's definitely not my normal scene; I prefer coffee shops with a book on a Friday night and even go to the occasional frat with my roommate. It's a straight club - Santana's way of coercing Rachel out of going to Callbacks - and the place is packed with men grinding on girls wearing short skirts and four inch heels. Santana, on the other hand, seems completely at home. Her hips move in time with the music as she leads us towards the bar.

I accept the beer that she hands me, although I would have much preferred a fruity mixed drink. She takes a swig from her own bottle and grins at me, gesturing towards the dance floor. Her free hand finds my hip and she pulls me in close, tossing her long hair over her shoulder with a whip of her head.

_I really wanna love somebody_

_I really wanna dance the night away_

_I know we're only halfway there_

_But you can take me all the way_

Her smile lights up her face and I feel myself drunk on how easy things are between us, even after everything that happened at the wedding. She's still my best friend, my special person that just gets me. Nobody at Yale comes remotely close to being Santana, nor would I want them to. The others can't make my skin feel like it's on fire with the brush of their fingertips the way Santana can. She unravels me in the best possible way, while somehow still making me feel whole.

_I don't know where to start, I'm just a little lost_

_I wanna feel like we never gonna stop_

_I don't know what to do, I'm right in front of you_

_Asking you to stay, you should stay, stay with me tonight, yeah_

It's a remix of the song to make it easier to dance to, but the words still ring out, clear and true. Santana seems lost in her own little world, her gaze focused on my lips, her hand warm on my hip. She sips from her beer at random intervals and her tongue swipes across her bottom lip to catch any residue left behind.

I try to focus on the surroundings, on the music, on anything but the way Santana is looking at me that seems to be much deeper than either of us is ready to admit. It has been two full months since I've seen her. I've kissed to other girls, although I stopped them before clothes could even start to come off because the spark wasn't there.

I've blamed it on the fact that Santana is my closest friend. I've blamed it on that wedding night being my first delve into lesbianism, and it just so happened to be with a skilled lesbian. I try to blame the amount of alcohol I consumed like it may have caused me to remember that hookup as better than it actually was.

The bar is dark, but Santana's face seems clear and bright to me. Everything else seems blurry and almost like it's fading to the distance. She pulls me closer so that our chests are now flush and I release the breath I've been holding for way too long.

I wait anxiously for the shoe to drop, for the tension to melt away, for Santana's lips to claim mine like they did as soon as we walked into that hotel room two months ago. I can feel her breath, its heat tickling my cheek. Every second that passes, every pound of the bass that fades into the next one, makes me more desperate for her to just give in and cross over the mere inches that separate us.

I could do it, but I'm frozen, despite the uncoordinated way that my hips are still moving in time with the music. I know how badly I want this moment to turn into something more, for us to prove that everything has been build up to another night together.

When she does finally lean in, I manage to be caught completely off guard. It's a mess of lips and tongues and her hand moving up to hold my neck. My mind goes blank and I try to memorize every little detail, but they fade as quickly as they happen.

I have no idea how long we've been standing there, but we finally break apart, chests heaving as we gasp for breath. Santana looks radiant and she sweeps a piece of hair out of my eyes, tucking it tenderly behind my ear.

"Can we find some place to talk?" she shouts over the music and I nod, allowing her once again to lead me through the crowd.

Maybe it'll just be a friendly chat. Maybe it'll just end up being more talking without words. I know it's too early to spill everything that feels pent up in my chest, but it's there, pressing against my ribcage with every rapid heartbeat. I love Santana, definitely as my best friend, most likely as something much scarier.

Life will take its course. Santana will be there no matter what. I've never doubted that for a second. I can't help but pray that she'll say she needs all of me the way I need her, whether it is tonight or five years from now. It's not an epiphany or a lightbulb moment for me. It's something that has been growing in me since the first time that she saved my ass from Sylvester when I screwed up a Cheerio routine. It's something that I know will always continue to grow with me despite whatever words come spilling from her tonight.


End file.
